


cock a gun (let’s have some fun)

by fiveyaaas



Series: In Another Life [5]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: A lot of off-screen character deaths happen before the start of this fic, Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Angst, Blood and Gore, Bodyguard, Bodyguard Romance, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Eventual Smut, F/M, Heavy Angst, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Violence, can’t believe these are ALL tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:42:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27666286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiveyaaas/pseuds/fiveyaaas
Summary: His job would be much simpler, really, if it weren’t for her staring up at him with those familiar, pleading, doe-like eyes- smiling shyly like that. Perhaps he would ask for more pay. It was the least Reginald could do for him.
Relationships: Number Five | The Boy/Vanya Hargreeves
Series: In Another Life [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1868005
Comments: 6
Kudos: 27





	cock a gun (let’s have some fun)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JjdoggieS](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JjdoggieS/gifts).



> This is another fic exchange for Julia!!!! I am so glad you agreed to THREE fic exchanges with me, ilysm! And sugar husband au,,,,, will happen soon. 💕

_ present _

Her arms crossed over her chest, feebly attempting to cover herself. Five rolled his eyes, trying to look past her laying tensely beside Leonard, but he couldn’t. It was  _ Vanya. _

His job would be much simpler, really, if it weren’t for her staring up at him with those familiar, pleading, doe-like eyes- smiling shyly like  _ that.  _ Perhaps he would ask for more pay. It was the least Reginald could do for him.

* * *

_ two years prior _

Her lips were all she could see of her face in the vanity mirror as she adjusted the vinyl player, making it speed up. It was fascinating to her- to play with the machine like that. More than anything in that moment, it was a way to distract herself. She had her first concert tonight since she’d gotten home. Vanya was thankful she could barely see her reflection at all: she didn’t want to know or examine herself any further. 

Without much thought, she averted her gaze from the tanline on one of the fingers on her left hand. It made her uncomfortable to see, not knowing what it meant. No matter how much she tried to find the person she’d been with before, it was impossible to find them without any information at all. Her father had implied she’d been somewhat of an impulsive person, that when she’d run away from home at 17, he hadn’t seen her for over twelve years. 

Waking up in her hometown, in a hospital bed, with her father scowling down at her, informing her that her brothers were dead before telling her that she needed to make herself presentable before the lawyer came inside. She was his heir, he said. Should be thankful.

She wasn’t. 

Vanya had heard many tales about the girl she’d been- a violin prodigy. At fifteen years old, she’d been internationally known among musicians. Seeing her old performances now filled her with a sense of dread, knowing that she would never live up to the person who had played so vibrantly. Truly, she didn’t want to be that girl again, but she also didn’t think that she had a choice. 

Reginald had told her, quite abruptly after she’d even touched the old violin in her room, that she would perform for a gala he’d thrown in memory of Klaus and Luther. Vanya could see very clearly what it really was- a test. One she’d certainly fail. 

Nobody explained to her why her father was this way, and she hadn’t tried to ask in the months since she’d returned home. Really, she cared about one thing- her old life. 

Not the life of the violin prodigy nor the heiress of Sir Reginald Hargreeves. The life of the woman who’d gotten married, managed to have something lovely despite the man who raised her. 

She’d heard too, of the legendary violinist, running away from home. When Vanya watched the subdued expression on her much younger face, she could easily tell that she really had been on medicine as the tabloids claimed. Though Vanya had asked to see her old psychiatrist again when Reginald had found her, wanting to know what the actual diagnosis had been to put her on a high enough dose of mood stabilizers to kill a child, Reginald had scoffed and told her that she didn’t need to pretend she was ill any longer. She supposed he meant the amnesia, not the mood disorder she’d had as a teen, but the likelihood that he would’ve just gotten her drugged to be compliant was uncomfortably high. 

The stories from tabloids varied in drama, believability, and objectivity of tone. Most of them agreed on two things- one, that she had some sort of breakdown and ran away and two, that she was alone when it happened. It meant that whoever she had married likely had no idea who she was, that they hadn’t known  _ to  _ report that they’d found her. As much as she wanted to contact her spouse, she had no indication of who they were, hadn’t even had the ring on her finger when she woke up, just the tan line. Whenever Vanya went into the sun these days, she put a ring on, similar in size to the other, hoping to keep it as a reminder always- a reminder of the life she wanted.

As she coaxed the music back to normal speed, her father walked into her room. She’d taken the record player from Luther’s room, shocked that Reginald hadn’t taken out all of his belongings yet. It was a calculated move on his part, she imagined, but she enjoyed having a piece of the brother she had no memory of. 

“You are prepared to play, I presume,” Reginald commented, knowing full-well she probably hadn’t touched a violin in the years she spent away from him. Truly, she didn’t even know if she had played during that time, and she was hoping muscle memory would kick in. She’d actually done somewhat well earlier, but she wasn’t at the caliber of the girl in the videos she saw.

Vanya lied through her teeth to Reginald, nonetheless, “Yes, I am. I will be down there in an hour, correct?”

He pursed his lips, nodding. Vanya wasn’t sure if it was for an opportunity to berate her or if it was for an opportunity to publicly embarrass her. Either way, she’d keep her chin high. It was possible if she got drunk enough after, she could turn the tables and embarrass  _ him.  _ “Very well. Do not be late,” Reginald told her before he left her room. 

A few seconds later, she heard a knock on her door. Her eyebrows raised in confusion, opening the door to her room. In front of her was a man, and her heart started pounding. Not because she recognized him, but because of the way he glanced down at her ring finger before he spoke. 

“Vanya Hargreeves?” His voice was shy, like he was afraid she’d scream at him. Vanya couldn’t; she was certain who this was. She wasn’t sure how he even got to her room, but only somebody who genuinely loved her would risk the security stationed throughout this home. The man continued, “I was curious about something. Your performance tonight… Well, I’ve been waiting quite a while to hear something like this. Would you be willing to have me help you just a little beforehand?”

“Because of my condition?” Vanya breathed, not realizing it might sound callous until the words came out. Hastily, she confessed, “I would love your help. I don’t even remember the last time I played, and any way that you could help me I would appreciate.”

“Have you tried playing pieces you’ve played before?” the man asked, putting his hands in his pockets. He had a little stubble on his jaw, and she wondered if he’d been clean shaven when they were together or if he always had a little scruff. 

Vanya blinked, remembering that she hadn’t answered him. “No,” she admitted. “I haven’t. I keep picturing that if I try to play pieces I played before it would discourage me. It’s embarrassing, knowing that if there were some way to compete with myself at 15, I’d be absolutely destroyed by a teenager.” 

The man laughed. It was a warm sound, but it felt like he forced it. She imagined his position must be awful here, not thinking much further after that. “You could always try, you know. Muscle memory and all that.”

“That’s true,” she mused, reaching for the violin. “There was a piece that I played in multiple of the videos I saw. The theme from  _ Phantom of the Opera?  _ Do you think playing it would actually work?”

“I honestly don’t know, but I’ve seen tons of videos about people with Alzheimer’s who can just play a piece on the piano and not remember anything else. It’s worth a shot at least.” He leaned in conspiratorially, “Anything beats whatever you were planning to do up there.”

Her cheeks heated, “I was thinking about attempting to sing, actually.” 

He grinned, mouth tugging into a more genuine looking smile, eyes crinkling at the corners, “I’d honestly love that. It’s a shame I came up here.”

“No,” Vanya blurted, blushing again as she did. “I’m really glad you came up here. You’re sort of a godsend, honestly. It feels like… I’ve been looking for someone like you for a little bit. Sorry if that’s a little cheesy.” 

“No, I agree,” he said, reaching forward to touch her shoulder. “Do you think you could try that piece? I’ll watch and give you notes, but be aware that I know  _ nothing  _ about music. So, take all my advice with a grain of salt.” 

She giggled, reaching for her violin. He was right, about muscle memory. The process of tuning the violin, rosining the bow, and setting her chin on the rest felt perfectly natural to her. When she put her bow over the strings, she just closed her eyes, letting her mind flit to the piece. Pretty soon, she was sawing it over the strings, allowing her body to take over. 

It wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t what she’d imagined for tonight. She could easily play this before switching to singing, still wanting to sing, especially with what the man in front of her had said before. She wanted to impress him, and she was pretty sure he already was when she set the violin down. Vanya beamed at him, blushing faintly, and he smiled back after a few beats of watching her. “Well done,” he praised. “Now you just have to do that in front of a much larger audience.”

Vanya was elated, though. She was certain her life was finally picking up traction. They walked downstairs together, and Vanya stared at all of the guests in awe. Her father scowled when he saw her, but she didn’t pay attention to it. She didn’t care to please him, especially when he clearly thought nothing of her. Vanya would only stay in this until her life was back on track again, and, considering her husband was beside her, she was certain that could happen at any moment. She’d have to ask him what kind of career she’d had before; she was already picturing the possibilities in her mind. 

When she realized the guests were clapping for her for walking down the stairs, she blinked at the attention. There were reporters surrounding her, and she was filled with another sense of confusion. Who exactly  _ was  _ her father? The kind of celebrity-worshipping look in the guests eyes made her feel nauseous, and she forced down the feeling as she gripped her violin. 

Vanya cleared her throat, walking to the raised platform she assumed would be her stage tonight. Lying through her teeth, she announced to the hushed, awestruck crowd, “This was my brothers’ favorite piece to play.” Vanya had absolutely no idea if that were actually the case, but she very much liked the concept of all the reporters saying in the tabloids tomorrow that she was a mourning, lost, saddened sister rather than the manic, washed-out, wild mess they’d tried to call her both since she’d come home and in the years that she was missing. She forced a tear to fall (it wasn’t hard to do, she had a lot to cry about these days), announcing loudly with a convincingly grieving tone, “I still remember the looks in their eyes that I played it the first time. Luther said that he’d never heard something so beautiful, but I am a modest woman and simply couldn’t handle that shit at all.” Having used obscene language just to see the slight bugging of Reginald’s eyes, she wiped her fake tears away and set her violin on her shoulder, plucking the strings a few times to finetune them. 

When she set her bow to the string this time, she was brimming with confidence. If Reginald wanted to see her fail his test, he wasn’t going to- not tonight. Tonight she would play so beautifully that the smug expression on his face would be dampered, at least for a little bit. And if not, well… She would fake it until she made it, then. 

Luckily, her performance went much better than expected; she wasn’t at the same calibre as she was at a teen of course. However, any time she missed a note, she’d force another tear out. By the end of it, she set her violin down, choking out, “I’m sorry, it’s just so painful, you know.” The crowd nodded sympathetically, and Reginald gaped at her, obviously not expecting the stunt she just pulled. 

_ ‘You made me sound like a trainwreck,’  _ she thought.  _ ‘And I prefer that much more than the subdued, drugged little girl that did whatever you wanted.’ _

When she started singing, deciding that if trainwreck was the theme tonight she’d have to stick with it, his lips sealed into a flat line. Singing the song ‘I Think We’re Alone Now,’ which had both sexual and romantic connotations, about her two brothers was the icing on the cake. The crowd ate it up like it was a perfectly rational thing that she was doing, a perfect way to memorialize lost family members, and Reginald looked like he was contemplating leaving entirely. 

When she left the stage, talking to the first reporter she recognized, one who wrote a flagrant tale about all the scandals she had likely been caught up in, coaxing a demure, desolate tone into her words and evoking his sympathy. Tomorrow, he’d write an article about the adoring sister, who lost everything after suffering a case of amnesia. Vanya knew nothing of her life before, but she spun a tragic tale that made the man frantically write notes down, nodding in false sympathy.  _ ‘I know what you said about me,’  _ she wanted to say.  _ ‘I know you don’t truly care.’ _

She held back, smiling through tears as fake as his kindness. 

The next person that grabbed her was the man from before, and she smiled up at him, proud of her performance. Vanya didn’t even realize she was standing on her toes to kiss him until he kissed her back. Their hands clasped, and he whispered, “Let’s get out of here for a bit.”

Vanya expected him to take her back to his place, but he actually walked with her back to the courtyard of the mansion. She stared up at him, but he was watching the courtyard, biting his lip almost shyly. “Vanya, could I ask you something?”

She nodded, squeezing his hand. This was it- the moment he told her everything. Already, she was imagining her life together with him, smiling softly. The tears that fell from her cheeks then were real, but they were  _ hopeful.  _

He smiled at her quickly, shoving his hands into his pockets like he was trying to not touch her, “Could I be your manager perhaps?”

She burst out laughing, euphoric in the knowledge that he wanted to spend more time. “Of course! On one condition, though.”

“Anything.”

“Tell me your name.” 

“Leonard,” he said, squeezing her hand in turn. “Leonard Peabody.”

* * *

_ one year prior _

Vanya’s career over the next year didn’t turn out how she expected, but she wasn’t upset with it. Rather than playing in an orchestra or as a soloist, she told her story- gave speeches at universities, wrote a book , had a TED Talk, even. It wasn’t that she was not playing any longer, she was. She worked every day to get back to the level she once was, documenting her life in her words as she did. It was an odd thing, feeling so content, especially with Leonard by her side. Any day, she expected him to propose marriage. Even though she knew that they had to have been married before, she got the idea that he was romantic enough to have another marriage. 

There were points where he was distant and points when he lost his temper, but she figured that it was out of frustration. To that day, her memories had still not come back to her.

Everyday, she expected them all to come back, but they wouldn’t. Other than the fact that she had no memories, no other things were wrong. Sometimes she didn’t want them back, content with living with Leonard, telling people of the life she didn’t really have and the progress she hadn’t really made. 

Her actual memories were still  _ somewhere  _ though, and she didn’t think she could rest entirely right until she had them. 

She thought she could have been entirely content, nonetheless, until it happened.

Vanya had been about to deliver a speech when she’d seen a note on her desk. Expecting it to be a sweet little encouragement from Leonard, she opened it excitedly. 

As soon as she saw the pictures of her brothers, only recognizable from all the articles she’d scoured of them, she was vomiting into the wastebasket beside her. And once she’d read the message,  _ ‘They know you’re lying,’  _ she was already calling Leonard and telling him that they needed to find her a bodyguard.

* * *

_ one month prior  _

Leonard and Vanya were planning their wedding, but all she could focus on was the safety issue. Each time they hired a new bodyguard, she still felt no safer. There was another set to interview that afternoon, and she sincerely hoped that this one would be the one to make her not feel unsettled. Even when Leonard tried to touch her now, she was jumpy, and she could feel him growing increasingly distressed. His patience could only go so far, and he snapped at her more and more each day. She was certain at any moment that he would leave her, and she tried desperately to be as good to him as possible out of her guilt.

She couldn’t let the life she was desperately holding onto escape her. It was all that she had left. 

Vanya spent the morning trying to piece herself together, cleaning the house and putting on makeup and then a bunch of different pairs of clothes until she had to clean the house again, trying to calm down the nerves that were making her stomach flutter. When the doorbell rang, she screamed, apparently still tense. 

Opening the door, she peered up bashfully, nearly gasping as she saw the man above her. She was engaged, she shouldn’t really be looking at other men, but this was the most attractive man she’d ever seen. “Hello,” she murmured, nearly falling over. He steadied her easily, looking amused by her reaction before letting her go, making her heart stutter out a beat. 

Leonard was all she had to keep her life  _ together,  _ she reminded herself. 

“Vanya?” He smiled as he said her name, pronouncing it carefully, like he was trying to be delicate with the word. Her heart was pounding now, feebly telling herself that Leonard wouldn’t want her to be having these thoughts about this man. He added, “I’m Five.”

“Hello,” she repeated, stammering out the two syllables. 

“I’m here to interview. Is your manager still here?” 

“No, I wanted to do the interview this time.” She closed her eyes, already about to tell him that he couldn’t possibly be her bodyguard because he would inadvertently wreck her home. Still, he was muscular and had scars on him, which she felt were two things she should probably look for in a bodyguard. Plus, he was tall. So tall. And had a nice jawline. Realizing she hadn’t said a word in a few moments, she added, “Would you like to come inside?”

“Of course.” She liked his voice a lot, liked the velvety quality, the way he seemed to hold amusement in every single one of his words. 

“We’re interviewing a few different people during this time,” Vanya told him, lying through her teeth as she was prone to do. “So there’s a possibility that there may be a second interviewing.” She was giving him the idea that he would have competition, so he wouldn’t know why she  _ actually _ didn’t hire him. The idea that he would know her thoughts, might tell somebody about them… Well, it was too much. She had a life that she’d made through lying about her life, and she was going to live it. Losing her marriage would completely unravel all the tales she’d spun. 

And, yes, it had been because she was trying to get away from Reginald, trying to cope with the knowledge that her memories may never return, trying to find some sort of career when she didn’t know if she even had any skills to begin with. But it was still a very false life, and she knew that somebody knew that. That somebody was trying to hurt her because of it. 

Five’s eyes seemed to catch onto something as they walked to her couch, and he crouched down in front of her coffee table, pinching what appeared to be a small piece of technology for recording. “A bug,” he announced. “What do you wanna bet there’s more? Who’s spying on you, Vanya?”

“I don’t know,” she said, feeling uncomfortable with the knowledge that there was just a recording device in her home. She wondered how many other devices were scattered throughout the house, that her old security hadn’t caught onto. “How did you notice that?”

He raised his brows, “Have any of your previous security not noticed these things before?”

“Well, no,” Vanya wrapped her arms around her stomach. “Why do you think somebody is trying to listen in on me?”

“Any number of reasons. Your father is one of the top 50 richest people in the world, and you’re somewhat of a celebrity. It might just be a stalker.”

“A stalker?” Her stomach started sinking again. “You don’t realize how much all of this scares me.” 

His eyes softened, “I can help protect you, Vanya. That would be my job. Nobody would hurt you or make you uncomfortable.” 

“Do you think it’s safe to speak?” Vanya asked. “I have a question.”

He frowned, literally grabbing a blender and turning it on like it was a movie.

“This feels excessive,” Vanya told him. 

“You seemed more likely to trust that it was safe to speak if I did something theatrical,” he replied, a teasing tone to his words. The blender was still working, given life from his thumb pressing down against it, loud to her ears. “It’s really more for your own comfort. Just tell me what you need to ask.”

“Do you think it’s because I’ve been named Reginald’s heir?” Vanya’s voice was shaky, and she realized she actually trusted this man to help her. For the first time since she’d started getting those cryptic notes, she felt  _ safe. _ “Do you think somebody is trying to kill me somehow so they can get the money?”

His hand dropped, like he’d been burned. His features screwed up, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Nobody is going to kill you,” Five snapped, like he was personally offended by the thought of harm coming her way. “Furthermore, the only people who would have a stake in Reginald’s money are those that could inherit it instead. Do you think this is somebody you know?”

“Well,  _ couldn’t  _ it be?” Vanya asked, not really sure if she wanted to know the answer. “They’ve gotten into dressing rooms, my car, my  _ home… _ Doesn’t it make sense that it would be someone close to me?”

“And who would that even be?”

“Leonard,” Vanya mumbled. She’d had this thought before, only when it got really bad. Only when his eyes would get that flicker. 

“If you don’t trust your manager, why do you still have him?”

Vanya found herself admitting something that she’d told no one else. “I think we were married at one point.” 

_ “What?”  _ She was shocked at how bewildered Five sounded. 

Realizing why, she clarified, “Not you and me, obviously. No, Leonard and I. Do you know about my amnesia at all?”

“Yes, I know about your amnesia.” He sounded like he was struggling to take in air, and it confused her. “What… what are you saying?”

“When I woke up, I noticed my ring finger had a tan line.” She realized she must have sounded crazy, and it almost discouraged her from going any further. Still, she plowed on, excited by the concept of finally telling the truth for once in so long. “And I  _ know  _ it means that I was married after I’d run away. When I met Leonard, I finally understood.” 

“Understood what?” But he clearly knew, likely thinking that she was just as out of it as the reputation she’d had before. 

“Leonard came back to me,” Vanya said, not caring what he thought because it was the truth. “And if he’s doing this? He has a reason.” 


End file.
